Category: Writing Prompts

“But it feels so permanent… this whole being human thing. I mean, until we die. It feels hella real. And I haven’t accomplished a damn thing, you know that, right? It’s embarrassing, really. Heartbreaking.”

“Oh, god, you really believe that matters! Hold on, I have to wipe my eyes.

“So not to be insensitive, but how long do you really think you have on earth? At the outside, say 90 years or thereabouts? Would you even want to be around longer? Never mind, not relevant. Bottom line, you are literally the twitch of a blink of a cosmic eye. There’s only one reason you’re here and everything else is filler. You can judge that filler as good or bad. Accomplished or tragic. But Life isn’t judging you and there is no prize for Best Human. Shit. As if.”

“You make sense, but you’re a rooster so really, I’m probably just talking to myself.”

“If that makes you feel better. I am a rooster, true. But wise as the stars, my friend. Wise as the… But hey, you believe concepts that make no damn sense anyway. Am I just a rooster? Appearances can be deceiving.”

“I’m so lost… Wait. What’s the one thing I’m here for then? Was that rooster speak or do you really know?”

“Being lost is fantastic. Great place to be. When you question everything you enter into freedom. And the one thing? Remember City Slickers?”

“The movie? Where Curly holds up a finger? That’s the one thing?!”

“Ok, corny, but yeah, that’s where I was going except… and here’s a hint… the one thing has nothing to do with accomplishment. He, he… NOTHING to do with it.”

“So find my one thing…”

“Except that it’s not a thing, right? It’s more a state, a north star. Makes sense? Just don’t compare your one thing to someone else’s.”

“Because I rock, I talk to roosters, and to hell with living up to expectations. That about it?”

“Now you’re getting it! Fly high my dear and don’t be afraid to crow with the sun. It feels good to make a little noise.”

Marty squinted against the high desert sun that couldn’t be muted with the darkest eyewear. “I’d say the practical answer is, deal the hand that’s been dealt you.” She raised her shoulders. It wasn’t much but she knew there was no answer that would satisfy Luce’s need.

“You did not just say that. What do you call what I’ve been doing – what? My whole life? I’ve been showing up. Meeting the moment, as you put it. God, M. There’s got to be more.”

“More…” This was the refrain, the background hum to her sister, Luce’s life. It didn’t define her, exactly. It wasn’t her true essence, rather a cloud of suffering that followed her no matter what her life circumstances. “Honey, open your eyes to what you have…”

Luce bowed her head. “I know.” She brushed wispy, honey colored hair off her forehead. “Don’t think I don’t know.” And then the groan. “I love my son, my husband. I love this place, I appreciate the gifts of grace, the moments of joy. And still.” She shifted on her rock, the blue New Mexican sky caressing her profile.

“You still don’t get it,” Marty said. “No, you’re not a doctor, a lawyer, a candlestick maker. That oneness you’re looking for, that sense of purpose…. It can’t be found by what you do.” She paced across Luce’s backyard, small but Zen-tranquil. Her sister couldn’t even see the connection – Luce designed this space. She was a flame that didn’t see her own light. Could not sense her inherent worth…and nothing Marty said would ever give it to her. “I’ve got a dare for you.”

Luce blanched but rose to the challenge. “What?”

“I dare you to stop running. To stay with whatever comes up, good, bad, numbing, terrifying, boring. For ten minutes a day, stay with it and see what lies underneath. Meet the shit that you avoid – see just how empty this yawning emptiness really is.”

“Ten minutes? That’s the dare? I don’t see how that could even make a difference…”

Marty leveled an aquamarine stare at her sister. “I thought you said you’d do anything?”

It took a minute. A full minute, but Luce nodded once. “Okay. I’ll try it.” She rose from her rock and paused at the sliding glass door. “For a week.”

The Waystation sat open for business
Someone had spray painted “PEACE” above a door of peeling paint
Dusty railroad tracks crossed in front, no longer going anywhere
I had reached this place as a last resort

It wasn’t my original destination nor was it familiar
Gold and billowy white were more my speed
I thought I was bound for better things
With gentle, sublime music filling the empty space

Somewhere around Prescott I lost my way
I found myself following the coyote calls in the valley
The sigh of the wind among the pondersoa pine
And wound up in Chloride, AZ – sans my bags, my map, and even my shoes

But the view is grand
The sun warms my face
And the tracks remind me that all paths lead
Home

…(thanks to Sunday Scribblings for the writing prompt, Guidance. It took me in a beautiful non-direction)(photo by BrandonStephenson)

I wrote on this week’s RWC word prompt and have included it here (under the Writing Exercises page)… Would love to read anyone else’s take on the prompt… Please post in the comments area or direct me to your own blog. 🙂

Prompt: Pick a secret wish for your character, then give them the chance to see it come true.